


Beneath Cold Waters

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-14
Updated: 2006-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Second in the Secrets and Bonds Series. Why was the gun Dean gave Sam in "Asylum" empty? Sam is starting to notice that there's something wrong with Dean that he isn't telling him. Consumed by his own guilt, over his actions at the asylum and Dean's reluctance to speak about them or the secret Dean is hiding they travel to a small Mississippi town. Something of legend is murdering couples along the Pascagoula River---something that might change their lives forever or kill them as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Beneath Cold Waters Part 1/4  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: Why was the gun Dean gave Sam in ‘Asylum’ empty? Sam is starting to notice that there’s something wrong with Dean that he isn’t telling him. Consumed by his own guilt, over his actions at the asylum and Dean’s reluctance to speak about them or the secret Dean is hiding they travel to a small Mississippi town. Something of legend is murdering couples along the Pascagoula River---something that might change their lives forever or kill them as well.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and after the events of ‘Asylum’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
  
***  
  
Sam shut the car door, leaned back, and waited for the familiar roaring rumble of the Impala’s engine to start. Ten seconds, twenty, thirty, one minute, two---Okay, what the hell? He turned his gaze and met his brother’s. Dean was leaning way to damn close to him and he raised a brow.   
  
"What? Are we going to check out this asylum or are you hoping it comes to us?"  
  
"Method acting?" Dean quirked a brow at Sam. "Is that the best lie you could come up with, dude?" He leaned back studying Sam as if he were some new demon specimen to be catalogued for easy reference. "Honestly Sammy...you are the worst liar."  
  
Okay, Sam thought, this was going to get a bit uncomfortable really fast. "I wasn't lying dude. He clearly wasn't going to talk to you. So, I improvised man and ‘look’ results. It's not like you haven't done worse shit to me. Or did you conveniently forget that time when I was ten and had the shaggier hair cut. Do you remember what you told that pretty Sophia lady we were looking into because she caught us in her backyard? That I was a tom-girl who just admired her cause she was so beautiful and wanted to be like her so she wouldn't call the damn cops. Cause I freaking’ do Dean…I hated you for weeks. Dad kept smiling at me every time some lady in a restaurant said I was just so pretty."  
  
Snorting Dean pushed the key in the ignition. "Well, she didn't call the cops did she?" He glanced back and smirked at Sam. "You were kind of pretty though with all that long hair." Then he turned the key revving the engine as he pulled out of the bar's parking lot with a squeal of rubber.   
  
Sam glared at Dean hard enough that a hole should have burned into the side of his head. Lifting his fist, he sucker punched Dean in the arm. The car swerved then straightened back onto the road. Gritting his teeth, he spoke slowly. "I am ‘not’ pretty Dean. If anyone is pretty here it's you Ms. Primpy Princess."  
  
Flicking a glance at Sam from the corner of his eye, Dean glared. "I wreck my baby because you're being such a fucking girl...I swear to God. What are you jealous? You know there's always a handsome one and I'm it. Besides I don't hear you complaining when my looks get us info." He snickered, then stuck his tongue out at Sam before grabbing a tape and shoving it in the tape player and the screeching rhythms of Twisted Sister blasted out of the speakers at full volume.  
  
"Yeah. I'm so jealous that you flirt with the entire female population to get info. Because you being a pig is so helpful to me." Sam muttered then went silent as they headed for the asylum.  
  
***  
  
Sitting at the table in their motel room Dean listened to the shower running in the bathroom as he carefully disassembled one gun after another methodically. This was what he always did when his brain wouldn't shut up. Damn it all to hell his brain hadn't shut up since they'd left Dr. Ellicott's office either. Sam had been up there for far to damn long for his taste. What the hell had Sam been blathering on about to that damn doctor, Dean wondered?   
  
He glanced up as the sound of the shower shut off and he stared at the door waiting for the inevitable. He was going to ask before his brain turned inside out. After all they'd been through in Nebraska he just had to fucking know.  
  
Sam opened the door shifting his pants under the towel as he buttoned his fly. "Okay, so we going in stocked and loaded---right?" He looked up and saw Dean cleaning his guns. "Never mind."   
  
Throwing the towel in the corner, he flopped on to his bed stretching out his legs, and watched his brother as he worked. He hated to admit it, but watching Dean clean his guns, calmed him. He used to watch him when he was younger when he was stressed. Watching his brother’s fingers move, watching the entire process and it always seemed to soothe him.  
  
Glancing up from his work Dean studied Sam a moment and then glanced back down at the gun in his hands. "Sooo..." he drawled slowly, "...what did you and the doc talk about?" He continued polishing the barrel of the pistol working the oil into the smooth metal, trying to be nonchalant about the reason he was asking.  
  
Sam shrugged and stretched his arms above his head. "Stuff…just crap to pass the time until I could get him to spill about his dear old family member." He twisted his arms the muscles constantly flexing as they moved back and forth. "That was the deal he made."  
  
"What kind of stuff?" Dean glanced up through his lashes, his hand stroking the barrel with smooth movements.   
  
"Stuff Dean just shit.” Sam frowned. “I made most of it up to give him something he could suck up with a spoon. Added a little real life in, but nothing major."  
  
"Really? Didn't have any issues you wanted to work out?" Catching his lower lip between his teeth, he chewed thoughtfully at it. "Cause I was thinking with your penchant to want to talk everything to death you'd take your opportunity." He sat the gun aside and picked up another, thumbing the barrel nervously.  
  
Sam watched, his brow twitching as he tried to figure Dean out. "Jesus Dean why does this matter? Huh? Even if I talked it's nothing I haven't told you before. I have no problem telling you or dad how messed up my life has been. This family is a bag of issues. I could have been there longer than I was if I had really wanted. I could make him a millionaire being his only client Dean."  
  
Snorting softly Dean frowned. "Doesn't matter...was just curious, dude." He sat the gun aside and stood. "I'm going to take a shower man." He grabbed his bag and rooted in it pulling out a pair of sweats. "Maybe we should get some sleep before we go back to the asylum."   
  
Without a glance at Sam, he headed into the bathroom closing the door behind him. Growling softly, Sam flopped back on the bed, but the anger in his belly started to grow. He pushed himself up and walked to the bathroom door flinging it open.   
  
"Why? Just tell me why I'm the only one in this family that ‘knows’ what we do is strange and not at all something normal like a fun day at the park playing Frisbee? WHY?"   
  
Dean didn't turn immediately so Sam grabbed his arm yanking him around. His hand on his brother’s arm wasn't that tight and he ignored the nakedness. He didn't give a shit about embarassment right now.   
  
"Tell me Dean why I'm the black sheep because I think rationally?"  
  
"Dude!" Dean's face flushed as he grabbed the towel on the counter and clutched it to his crotch. "If you haven't noticed...naked here!" He growled. "Do you think this is the best time to be discussing this?"  
  
"YOU’RE the one who started his." Sam flung Dean's arm away from him his eyes never leaving Dean’s. "You wanted to know what I said to him because you want to know how much I bitched and complained. You hate the fact I think we’re messed up---you always have. Because to you this normal." He lifted his arms gesturing around the room. "But ‘this’ is very much not normal Dean."  
  
Tugging the towel around his waist, Dean knotted it and glared at Sam with fiery eyes. "This is our normal! You always tried to deny it!" Dean spit out. "Fuck Sam what is it with you? Why was our life so god damn hard to bear?!"  
  
Sam poked Dean in the chest with his finger. "Your ‘normal’ Dean, not mine---never mine." He turned his gaze away and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "I fight demons and I fucking rid the world of evil spirits. What kid does that Dean? It's not about ‘not being’ able to bear it. We deserved to be just kids and now we never can." He seemed to deflate as he watched his lips move, watched himself say all of it. It was like deep down he knew how much of an asshole he had always been about the whole thing, but he just couldn't let it go. He was so sick of it all. So sick of the looks and arguments he had with Dean and their dad. All because he wanted a bike and a Lego set not a shotgun and rock salt.   
  
When he spoke again his voice wasn't angry and he was gazing at his feet not in the mirror. "But I didn't talk about that---can't right? I mean I could have, but who wants the looks. So I toned it down. My dad was depressed, my mom had died, and my brother and I are miles apart. He likes to hunt and I like books. I'm so emo and my family doesn't understand me. Bah-bah black sheep."  
  
Dean sighed running his fingers through his hair. "Dammit Sam..." his voice dropped low, "...what the hell do you want me too say? That I hate my life? I don't know anything else...this is who I am not what I do. What the hell is normal anyway?"  
  
Sam nodded, his fingers scratching absentmindedly below his elbow. "You’re right Dean. What is normal anyway? Your exactly right." Looking up Sam's expression was closed off. "Sorry about your arm and the whole walking in thing. If it makes you feel any better," Sam gestured towards the towel, "…I'd never make fun of your size dude."   
  
Then he was out of the bathroom shutting the door behind him. He laid down on the bed his hair still a little damp, flinging all over his pillow as his arms slid beneath it. He’d exhausted himself and didn't even want to slip into his normal sleeping pants. To hell with it, he thought. He was a Winchester and what was normal for a Winchester? Apparently this was and who knew what else.  
  
Standing on the other side of the bathroom door, Dean stared at it for a few moments and then sighed, flipping off his towel. He was worried about Sam, but then when had he not been. Every since Nebraska and his stay in the hospital Sam seemed to have been on edge. Maybe he should tell Sam what had really happened, but damned if he could bring himself to do it. Turning on the shower, he stepped into the stall, and let the hot water rush over his aching muscles and sighed.   
  
"What am I going to do with you Sammy?" He mumbled closing his eyes and turning his face into the water. Things were getting so damn tense between them and all he really wanted to do was protect Sam. That was his job, he told himself, it had been for twenty-two years, and it was all he knew.  
  
***  
  
Sam turned his head and eyed the stack of clean guns waiting to be put away then his gaze settled on his phone. He wanted to call his dad. Ask him all those questions that Dean could never relate to or answer, but he knew his dad wouldn't have the answers he wanted either. Sometimes, he thought, it sucked more than anything to be so far away from the people who you were supposed to be so close too. They were his flesh and blood, his family, his dad and brother, and sometimes he just didn't fit. He was taller than both Dean and his dad and he’d always been told how he was the brains of the family. Although, Dean and his dad were both just as smart just about different things.   
  
If he didn't have the brains, he thought, he would be utterly worthless on all levels. He’d completed the same training as Dean sure, but Dean always managed to be faster, better at everything while growing up. Dad was always so proud of Dean and when he looked at him he would say the same things he said to Dean, but the light in the eyes would be gone. Sometimes Sam thought his dad hated him for what happened to his mom. Sometimes Sam thought he should be hated. His eyes started to well up and he rubbed at them quickly refusing to go down that road.   
  
He pulled up one of his legs close to his body and hugged his pillow tighter letting his eyes drift shut. Maybe his parents should have bought a dog after all was his last thought before falling asleep.  
  
***  
  
When Dean came out of the bathroom Sam was sound asleep clutching his pillow and Dean sighed. Sam would never open-up to him and he knew that because he refused to open-up himself. Their dad loved them, but he had been a soldier even before their mom's death and he'd trained them just has he'd been trained. Dean admired Sam for having the strength to fight that training. Tossing the towel across the back of the chair, he checked the door and the windows then went back to his bed. Pulling back the blankets he shut off the lamp and slipped beneath them.   
  
"Night Sammy." He whispered as he curled up on his side, his hand sliding beneath his pillow, and his fingers curling around the handle of his knife.   
  
Sleep came quickly, but it wouldn't be a peaceful one.  
  
***  
  
Click.   
  
The sound vibrated through Dean's bones and he tried to locate its origin.   
  
Click.   
  
Again, that sound echoed making his skin crawl along his bones. He knew that sound, he'd known it since he was five years old. Such a simple sound, but it called to the most primal levels of a man, a warrior, and a soldier. It was the sound of a gun being cocked.   
  
Dean felt his chest tighten and he searched the darkness for any movement, any thing that would tell him from where the sound was coming.   
  
'Don't be afraid...'   
  
The voice held an edge of insanity and suddenly Dean's heart began to race as he spun around searching the darkness that seemed to come to life, writhing and whispering.   
  
'...I'll make you all better...'   
  
The whisper was at his ear now and he jerked away from the cold breath of air that caressed his neck. His chest tightened to the point of pain and he began to back away from that whispering voice.   
  
Click.   
  
The gun cocking again and he tried to run, but he couldn't. There was the bright flare of a gun being fired and his chest felt like it was on fire as he dropped to his knees.   
  
'Don't be afraid...'   
  
This time the voice was one he knew and he screamed as the impact of a bullet caught him in his chest and the pain spread out like the fine spun strands of a spider web.  
  
***  
  
Sitting up with a harsh gasp it took a moment for Dean to realize he was in the motel room in his own bed. He glanced over at the other bed and saw Sam sleeping peacefully, his arms wrapped around his pillow, and his shaggy hair shadowing his eyes. Quietly Dean slipped from the bed, made his way to the bathroom, and closed the door, flipping on the light. Turning on the faucet, he caught his reflection in the mirror and he saw the raw fear in his eyes as he reached up to wipe away the blood that dripped from his nose.   
  
"Fuck..." he whispered and bent over splashing water across his heated face.  
  
***  
  
Sam yawned, his eyes fluttering open, and he blinked looking over at Dean's empty bed, but he could hear the water running. He lifted his wrist and squinted at his watch. "Dean?" When he didn't get an answer his belly wiggled with a hint of worry. He still had those moments when he worried that Dean would get those headaches and get sick again. Pushing himself up he walked to the bathroom knocking on the door softly. "Dean? You alright?"  
  
Glancing up Dean stared at his reflection the taste of bile on his tongue. "Yeah, Sammy...sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." He reached over and flushed the toilet, then checked to make sure all the blood was gone. Turning off the sink he opened the door and grinned at Sam who was rubbing at his sleep clouded eyes. "Had to piss...too much coffee." He switched off the bathroom light, stepped around Sam, and headed back to bed. "Go back to sleep---okay?"  
  
Yawning he turned, glancing at his brother’s back, as he slipped into bed. "You sure? We can talk if you want. Did you have a dream or something?"  
  
"Naw...you're dream boy." Dean chuckled as he slipped back beneath the covers glad that the shadows hid him from further scrutiny by Sam. He was sure Sam would notice the beads of perspiration that covered his skin and the dark smudges beneath his eyes. "Go on Sammy...get some more sleep."  
  
Sam walked over to the bed and sat down, but his eyes were still locked on his brother’s back. Something was wrong here but he just couldn't figure out what. His voice was soft when he finally spoke again. "Dean you don't have to be afraid." He sighed. "You can talk to me if there's something up or if you’re just worried about anything."  
  
Sighing Dean rolled over on to his back and stared at the ceiling. "Nothing's wrong Sam. Don't you think if there was I'd say something?"   
  
Without hesitation, Sam answered. "No." He ran a hand through his sleep-tangled hair. "I think you would close up tighter than a locked vault. Because you always want to be the strong one---the rock, and the protector. You’ve never wanted to be weak especially around me Dean. "  
  
"That's not true..." Dean whispered into the shadows, his gaze locked firmly on a water stain above him. "I'm not that smart---remember? You'd know...you'd figure it out Sammy. Cause that's what you do---figure shit out." He felt that cold breath of air again from his dream and he shifted back to his side. "Now go to sleep dork boy. We got a mess to clean up and frankly, we need all the rest we can get."  
  
Sam didn't want to let this go. He wanted to get to the root of the problem whatever the damn problem might be. He knew Dean wasn't going to talk though and he didn't want to argue it out---not yet anyway. He just sighed again and lifted his legs up onto the bed.   
  
"Fine bossy."   
  
Those were the last words he spoke before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.   
  
***  
  
I'm not in the sharing and caring kind of mood.   
  
I'm not in the sharing and caring kind of mood.   
  
He kept repeating it in his head because he wanted to respect what Dean wanted. After what he’d done and said, he figured he owed Dean that much. However, when they walked into the hotel room and Dean disappeared into the bathroom Sam felt a huge wave of fear.   
  
What if Dean didn't want to talk about it because he was angry with him?   
  
What if Dean didn't trust him now?   
  
He paced in a tiny circle coming to the door his hand raised to knock and then it would drop. Why couldn't they talk about this? Why couldn't they just talk about anything?   
  
He brought one finger to his mouth, chewing at the nail, as he stood near the door. It bugged him---it all bugged him. He felt fear and sickness and it was all churning inside him. He didn't want Dean to hate him or not trust him. He didn't want Dean to think he wanted him dead---he didn't that was far from what he wanted.   
  
Nevertheless, he couldn't stop hearing the trigger being pulled or how it clicked and echoed in his head repeatedly. He ripped a chunk of nail away from the quick and blood welled up, that was enough to send him to the door again. He laid his head against the cool wood. "Dean I don't hate you. I don't hate you that badly. I don't hate you much at all. I wouldn't, you have to know that...don't you? Don't you know that?"  
  
A soft a grunt came from behind the door. "Sam we've been through this already---okay? I get it you were possessed, but I got to ask you something, Sam."  
  
Sam sighed, a little breath of relief. At least Dean was talking to him. "Yeah?"  
  
"What kind of demon hunter gets possessed like a complete idiot?" Dean snorted.  
  
His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and then he glared at the door. "You’re an asshole Dean---do you know that? A fucking big ass prick and I hate you!" He kicked the door, and then stormed to the bed falling on it like a petulant child. "Jerk off." It wasn't fair when your older brother used your own words against you. Actually, it was a big fucking pain in the ass.  
  
From behind the door, Dean's voice rose in a string of curses. "Mother fucking shit! God dammit!" That was followed by a loud hissing groan of pain. “Shit...Sam!"  
  
"Suffer!" Sam muttered his arms crossed over his chest. "SUFFER!!"  
  
"Dammit Sammy!" Dean's voice rose in frustration. Suddenly there was a loud crash from the bathroom and another string of painful cursing.  
  
Sam raised a brow and growled in annoyance, but he got up shed his coat and opened the bathroom door. He tried to keep it in---he really did---because this was his fault. Nevertheless, seeing his brother on the floor on his ass, shirt stuck on his head, arms all strung and bowed keeping him stiff was just too damn much.   
  
He just started laughing. He laughed and laughed his face turning purple. His arm wrapped around his waist and he thought he was going to suffocate. "You look...yo...you loo...Dean---"  
  
"God dammit Sammy!!" Dean glared up at him from the stretched neck of his tee shirt; his annoyed eyes the only thing visible other than the top of his head. "Quit fucking laughing you little shit and help me! It ain't that damn funny!"  
  
Sam looked down into the neck hole of the shirt and it only made him crack up harder. "Yes, yes, ye, ye...you doo..." he howled, slapping his knees as Dean glared at him. "Oh fuck! Oh god...Dea...Dean...oh goddd---"  
  
Dean's brows knitted into a royally pissed off frown. "You...you..." Dean growled his arms flailing in the oddly stretched armholes of his tee shirt. "I swear to God Samuel Winchester if I get out of this fucking shirt I will...kick your ass!"  
  
He couldn't even talk now. Sam was gasping for breath, tears rolling down his face. Lifting his hands, he slowly made his way over to Dean trying to see through the tears of laughter. His hands slipped once, then twice as he tried to grab the flailing arms. "Stop! Stop moving...you... dick." He tugged but the laughter refused to stop as he pulled.   
  
"Fine!" Dean snapped flinching. "Just get this fucking shirt off me!"  
  
Sam stopped, composed himself the best he could, and then pulled the offending shirt off with one swift tug. That’s when he cringed and a look of guilt crossed his face. "Sorry dude."  
  
Hissing Dean pushed himself up off the floor. "Shit that fucking hurts..." he grunted as he inspected the bleeding marks that were scattered across his bruised chest. "Sam can you go get the first aid kit---please?" He glanced up at Sam who was just staring at the damage. Snapping his fingers Dean sighed. "Sam? Yo, Sammy?"  
  
Blinking Sam glanced up. "Yea..." he coughed and tried again. "Yeah okay I'll get it." The laughter was definitely gone now as he walked out his numb fingers wrapping around the first aid kit. He swallowed and looked out the window his eyes going foggy. Jesus what did he do?  
  
"Sam?" Dean stepped out of the bathroom, his arm wrapped around his aching ribs. "Jesus Sam..." he moved across the room to where Sam stood staring out the window. He settled a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo...it looks worse than it is. I swear." Dean spoke softly, his fingers squeezing Sam's shoulder.  
  
"I know." Sam said his voice barely audible. "But…" his fingers tightened around the kit, "…but that other gun. If that other gun hadn't been..." it was getting even harder to see as his vision blurred with tears and he had to fight to get the next few words out. "If it hadn't been empty."  
  
"But it was Sammy." Dean sighed. "Guess we were lucky that I forgot to load that one."   
  
"Lucky." Sam repeated, nodding, but he didn't feel attached to his body. "Yeah…lucky." He started to tap out a rhythm on the first aid kit as he swallowed back the beginnings of sickness. He felt like a monster. A monster that had been let loose. He kept waiting for those feelings to come back; he kept waiting for the nosebleed.   
  
"Look can you help me out here?" Dean released his grip on Sam's shoulder trying to forget it wasn't dumb luck, but a prophetic dream on his part that had kept his baby brother from putting a bullet in his skull. "I could use some help getting this frigging rock salt cleaned out of these wounds." He sat down on the end of the bed, biting back a groan as his ribs protested. He hated it when the adrenaline rush wore off.   
  
Shaking himself out of his dark thoughts, Sam clapped the first aid kit against his other hand and nodded. "Yeah, I think I got it Dean." He moved to the bedside and knelt down opening the kit taking out what he needed to get to work. "This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch. You can grab my shoulder if you want."  
  
"Oh, I'd rather rip the fuck out of this cheap ass motel blanket than your shoulder bro'." Dean flashed Sam a grin as he dug his fingers into the mattress. It already hurt like fuck all so he figured it couldn't hurt much worse, but then he'd been wrong before.   
  
Nodding one last time, Sam took the tweezers out of the first aid kit and took in the circle of scattered rock salt embedded in Dean’s chest. If he hadn't done this, he would have had a good joke about getting dead center and how x hits the spot and all that. But there was no way he was doing that now or ever.   
  
He just lifted the tweezers murmuring. "Okay, here we go." He readied the tweezers, then started digging into the biggest wound gripping a chunk and pulling it out slowly.  
  
Dean's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he tried to swallow the scream of pain that rose in his throat. "Shit Sam..." he hissed through his teeth, "...now I know why spooks hate this shit." He tried to grin, but it didn't quite reach his watering eyes.  
  
"Fuck…yeah I can only imagine. Luckily, you’re a tough assed son of a bitch. I'd be crying to dad by now." Sam joked softly, digging out another chunk, and then another working as carefully as he could.   
  
"Yeah, cause you're a fucking girl." Dean snickered.  
  
TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Beneath Cold Waters Part 2/4  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: Why was the gun Dean gave Sam in ‘Asylum’ empty? Sam is starting to notice that there’s something wrong with Dean that he isn’t telling him. Consumed by his own guilt, over his actions at the asylum and Dean’s reluctance to speak about them or the secret Dean is hiding they travel to a small Mississippi town. Something of legend is murdering couples along the Pascagoula River---something that might change their lives forever or kill them as well.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and directly after the events of ‘Asylum’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
***  
  
Sam dug the tweezers just a little deeper into the next wound, lifting an eyebrow. "Do you think you should pick on your surgeon?"   
  
"Fuck!" Dean yelped. "I can see why you were going into law instead of medicine. Cause man your bedside manner sucks, dude."   
  
"Yeah…yeah less talking more staying still." Sam griped as he continued removing chunks of rock salt from his brother’s wounds. After Dean's little comment things went pretty smoothly. He got all the pieces out then he stared at the pile on the mattress. "At least you can take comfort in the fact that salt cleanses and I didn't shoot you with acid."   
  
Dean squirmed uncomfortably at that thought. "Now be easy with that peroxide." He eyeballed the brown bottle sitting next to him. "That shit can burn sometimes."   
  
"I can handle it Dean…I'm not a baby. Grown man here totally capable of using peroxide." Sam grabbed the bottle, opened it, grabbing a few cotton balls and soaking them. "Just take a deep breath man. Try not to scream like a sissy."   
  
He lifted the first cotton ball squeezing the peroxide over the biggest wound watching as it began to foam, the bubbles popping and fizzing. Suddenly Dean felt like he might literally fly if his fingers weren't dug so deep into the mattress. He swore he was tearing the stuffing out of it.   
  
"Motherfuckingcocksuckingsonofawhore!!!" He gritted his teeth so hard they felt like they might shatter under the pressure. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes watered as another string of curses exploded from his lips. "Fuckingwhoremongingbastard!!!"   
  
Sam smirked as he poured more peroxide over the other wounds in Dean’s chest. "Nice to see your vocabulary has grown."   
  
When all the wounds were done bubbling and fizzing he began wiping them with a fresh cotton ball, clearing them of anything that might give Dean an infection. As the burning ceased Dean let out an exaggerated sigh falling over, his arms splayed.   
  
"Fuck just crucify me next time...couldn't hurt any worse."   
  
Sam shook his head and grabbed the antibiotic cream leaning over his brother one hand splayed against his shoulder. "Stay." He opened the tube and squeezed the cream over the wounds, then sat the tube aside, and began massaging the cream into each wound carefully.   
  
Hissing between clenched teeth Dean let his eyes drift shut. God that actually felt good against his hot bruised skin, he thought. A soft breath of air escaped him and he cracked one eye peering at Sam who was caught up in his work. His shaggy bangs were shadowing his eyes and he was biting his lip as he concentrated on spreading the cream slowly across Dean's chest. He was definitely---oh, fuck don't go there---this is your baby brother, you sick fuck, he screamed inside. Closing his eyes, he started disassembling one of the guns in his head---piece by piece.   
  
Sam leaned back on his heels when his job was done and inspected his work. "There you’re all cleaned, creamed, and lacking of salt chunks in your chest. Now lets just hope your pretty ass won't scar. I really don't want to hear about this for the rest of my life."   
  
A soft sigh escaped Dean as he sat up. "No prob, bro' the chicks love scars." He chuckled. "You think they'll be okay like this college boy or should I wrap them in gauze?"   
  
Sam snorted and grabbed the gauze. "Better safe than sorry they say." He pulled off a long strip, wrapping it around Dean’s torso until he had the area covered, and then he secured it. "You look like a half naked mummy."   
  
Dean rolled his eyes and smirked. "Trust me dude…Lon Chaney ain't got shit on this sexy mummy."   
  
***   
  
That night wasn't a pleasant night to say the very least. Every time Dean shifted his ribs screamed in protest and no matter how he laid it just didn't fucking help. He continued tossing and turning until he thought he would go mad and finally he just lay on his back and started counting the cracks in the ceiling tiles. He was so distracted by the discomfort he had no idea he was counting aloud.   
  
"Dean." Sam's voice was hoarse as he sat up in bed rubbing his temples. "You’re counting out loud." He hissed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was practically moving at the speed of a turtle as he made his way to the bathroom, and then there was the sound of a bottle rattling and of water running.   
  
Sighing Dean sat up. "Sorry...I can't sleep. My fucking ribs are killing me." Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he hissed at the motion his gaze drifting to the bathroom door. "Did I wake you up? Thought you were sleeping earlier." He ran his fingers through his hair and scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands.   
  
"I was sleeping...until..." Sam sighed and his head popped out of the bathroom door the light, illuminating his pain-etched face. "I think we got a job." He shut the light off and headed towards his laptop, rubbing at his eyes, and his feet doing more of a shuffle than a walk. "Just have to see if the information I find matches what I saw."   
  
"What you saw?" Dean's brows rose. "You have another bout of 'Prophecy Boy'?" He stood flinching at the sudden movement.   
  
Sam lifted his middle finger flipping off his brother. "Not now Dean alright? Aching head here." He groaned as he pulled up a chair in front of his laptop. He flicked it on and sheltered his eyes as the light from the screen pierced his aching retinas.   
  
"Hey, just asking." Dean snorted. "It's a big brother privilege. Any of that Tylenol left? I could use some pain relief." He yawned as he shuffled to the bathroom and retrieved the bottle. "Shit between the two of us we should own stock in Tylenol." He shook out three tablets and swallowed them dry, then wandered back into the bedroom pulling up the other chair next to where Sam was scrolling through a screen. "Actually I'm hoping that dream is right on the mark. I can't get away from Illinois and that god damn asylum fast enough." He sighed as he squinted at the screen. "What you looking at?"   
  
"Alton, Mississippi…I'm looking for a river. So I'm looking up any rivers that have reports of murder or suicide within the past twenty years." Sam said tiredly as he flipped through pages of results, hoping to find what he was looking for. He hadn't gotten much rest when the dream came and the dream wasn't the best one he could have possibly had by far. Most people had sex dreams he had dreams about people dying.   
  
"Murder or suicide?" Dean scratched the back of his neck as he studied Sam's exhausted face. He was worried about Sam and his vision boy shit. He would have never wished those fucking shit ass dreams on anyone, especially not his brother. Though from what he saw Sam's dreams seemed to be straight forward, his had always been surreal, and the point was never straightforward. He sighed. “So you want to tell me about this dream? On the other hand, should we play twenty questions, dude? Cause I'm just saying not much in the mood for games."   
  
Sam tapped the screen. "I think that's the one." He eyed a picture of the river and recalled the setting in his mind trying to make the area darker and ten times spookier. "Pascagoula." He leaned closer to read and then he bit the tip of the finger he’d been working on getting down to a little nub. "I think they’re murders that get filed away like suicides---you know cops Dean. All I know is I saw a couple they were making out and then there were screams and the sound of drowning. I saw the river and it seemed to be clawing them under. And no matter how hard they fought the river won. I know it sounds crazy Dean but there's something going on there."   
  
Smirking, Dean stood trying not to flinch for the millionth time in the past hour. "So what're we waiting for Tonto?"   
  
"Tonto?" Sam raised a brow. "Explain much there bro?"   
  
Dean smirked. "Hey I'm the Lone Ranger, the Impala is Silver my trusty steed, and you my sweet lil' bro are my trusty side kick."  
  
"Oh, give me a break." Sam snorted. "Maybe I'm the Lone Ranger and you’re Tonto buddy."  
  
"Pft!" Dean snorted as he ambled around the room packing. "How can you be the Lone Ranger? You got no Silver so you ain't got a chance in hell, dude."  
  
Sam closed his laptop, then stood, walking to the dresser and picked up the keys. "Now I have Silver." He jingled the keys. "What do you got Tonto?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know..." Dean's eyes narrowed as he grabbed Sam's bag, "...I've got all Tonto's clothes now. And tellin' ya Tonto you're goin' to look silly fighting the forces of evil naked."  
  
"I'm NOT naked Dean!" Sam looked down at himself and sighed. "Not totally at least." He held onto the keys stubbornly. "I don't want to be Tonto." His lip pushed out into a semi-pout and he scuffed his foot. "But I need my clothes you prick."  
  
"Fine." Dean raised a brow. "How about Robin the Boy Wonder."  
  
"HE WEARS TIGHTS ASSHOLE!!" Sam yelled.  
  
"He got nipples in the movie and his codpiece was bigger than Batman's!" Dean snorted.  
  
Sam blinked, his mouth opened, and then he bit his lip. "Okay." He tossed the keys to Dean and held out his hand. "Give me my bag you sicko. No guy should be examining another man’s codpiece and nipples."  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. "It was in all the fucking interviews with that damn actor...what's his name? It isn't like I was checking out his cock size!" He sighed in exasperation. "Besides it's not like all guys aren’t comparing size. Don't tell me college boys don't check each other out in the locker rooms."   
  
"Oh, that's it." Sam walked over and grabbed his bag. "This conversation is done." Shaking his head at his brother, he disappeared into the bathroom mumbling about brothers who needed hobbies that didn't include guns or masturbation. He was starting to think Dean's brain had exploded and all that lived in the hole that was left was a vast cloud of horny, competitive caveman.  
  
Dean pulled out jeans and a button down, as he grumbled under his breath. He stripped and pulled on his jeans, then took a deep breath yelling as loud as he could. "We should just put all that hair up into pigtails and dress you in knee socks and a plaid fucking skirt! Since you’re acting like a virgin Catholic school girl you should look the part---I'm just saying!"  
  
The bathroom door flew open and there was Sam, nostrils flaring. "Say that again."  
  
"You fucking heard me!" Dean snapped as he tugged on his shirt gritting his teeth. "You act like a god damn virgin...Catholic...school girl!"  
  
Sam tossed his shirt and his bag outside of the bathroom door, did up the last button on his pants, and then cracked his knuckles. "I am not a girl Dean. SAY…IT!"  
  
Quirking a brow Dean smirked. "Sammy you are...a girl!" He jumped up and dashed around the bed.  
  
Eyes widening Sam growled as he took a running jump and pounced on Dean knocking him to the floor. Grabbing Dean’s wrists, he straddled his waist. "NOT…A…GIRL DEAN!" He pinned Dean’s wrists to the floor and bore down with all his weight, his ass pushing Dean harder into the floor. "Say. It."  
  
"You're a girl!" Dean snorted as he squirmed beneath Sam.   
  
"ARG!" Sam yelled tightening his grip on Dean’s arms and stretching them above his head to the point of pain. He knew his brother’s chest was still sore and he flashed a wicked grin at him as his ass pressed into it harder. "Do girls have ‘I can kick my pussy brother’s ass’ strength?"  
  
Dean winced, but grinned from ear to ear. "They do if they’re German athletes!" He bucked his hips up off the floor trying to dislodge Sam. "Or if they’re pumped up on happy steroid highs!"  
  
"Oh, you bastard!" Sam seethed as he rolled back and taking his brother with him. Pulling Dean’s arms behind his back, he wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and clung like a baby monkey to his mother. "Fine if I'm a girl you’re a bigger, prissier, sissier girl."  
  
"Fuck Sam!" Dean's eyes watered, but damn it he was not backing down, he thought. "Not in this life time butt munch!" He drew back and head butted Sam as hard as he could.  
  
"Oww...FUCK!!" Sam lost his bearings and grabbed his head from the blow losing his grip on Dean. "God damn it Dean!"  
  
Dean fell backwards clutching his own head. "Motherfucker!" Gasping in pain he opened his eyes and stared up at Sam. "Can we please just go to Mississippi..." he moaned.  
  
"Yes, Jesus Christ…yes…you stupid dick." Sam groaned as he stood stomping over to pull his shirt on.   
  
Pausing every few seconds he’d grab his sore head and swear a few choice words. He pulled on his shoes and cursed Dean out. He pulled on his coat and chewed Dean out. He grabbed his bag and cursed Dean's car out. By the time they were both in the car, Sam had covered everything Dean had ever owned or anything he despised about Dean---period.  
  
***  
  
Seventy-two hours of utter silence in the car was enough to drive Dean mad. Neither one of them even pretended not to be pissed at the other. So when the huge sign announcing the arrival of Alton, Mississippi came into view there was a collective sigh in the Impala that could have been heard in China. Dean slowed as he cruised into downtown Alton, his eyes searching for the nearest and hopefully cheapest motel.   
  
"So...you gettin' any vibes 'Spooky'?" Dean quirked his brow at Sam.  
  
Sam snorted staring out the window. He didn't plan on talking to Dean now or ever again. Especially when Dean was calling him names, he thought. He was just going to concentrate on this town and hopefully he would pick up something. Dean could go fuck himself for all he cared. Wait a minute he took that back. Dean had probably done that a number of times because Dean was big fat pervert with no brains.  
  
"Awww...hell Sammy..." Dean grumbled as he pulled into the parking lot of the first motel he saw. Turning off the engine, Dean stared out the windshield, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "Look...dude we can't work like this." He sighed.  
  
Sam glared harder out the window but he knew Dean was right. He could play this silent treatment out for as long as he wanted. He had done it before a long time ago when Dean had burned his favorite GI Joe while training with a flame-thrower. He’d told him it was an accident but Sam didn't talk to him for a week straight. The only reason he'd talked to him at all was that Dean had bought him the same GI Joe and another that he had wanted. Sam never did find out how Dean accomplished that feat.   
  
"I could buy a pad and paper and write everything out to you in messages."  
  
Groaning Dean rolled his eyes. "You're not a girl." He whispered barely audible in the silent car.   
  
Sam smiled softly. "Thank you." He elbowed Dean in the side lightly. "Let’s get settled. My legs freaking ache man." Then he was bouncing out of the car and getting his bags.  
  
Releasing a breath that he had no idea he was holding Dean rested his forehead on the steering wheel. This was how it always played out with them. From the moment, Sammy could walk and talk he had Dean wrapped around his pinkie.   
  
Dean knew in his gut that he wanted Sam with him simply because he was Dean's one weakness and apart he couldn't protect him. Together at least the evil shit that crawled the earth could not get to Sam unless it was over Dean's cold, dead body. Dean didn't regret that in the least, he actually preferred it this way even if it meant he could never have what he really wanted. Inhaling, he scrubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands and grabbed the keys slipping out of the car and into the humid Mississippi afternoon.  
  
"Come on you have to rent the room---don't you? Mr. Money Man, let's go. If you’re tired you can take a nap in the room." Sam glanced at Dean. His brother looked exhausted and strung out. "I need to look up more on this river anyway. See if we can get some victims piled up enough to get some answers as to what's going on."  
  
"Yeah, a nap sounds good." Dean grabbed his bag and headed for the office, running his hand though his hair, and his shoulders slumped. "I'll be right back." He called over his shoulder.  
  
***  
  
Two hours later Sam was hunched over his laptop. In the last hour and a half, he'd made some pretty good progress. He scribbled down the things he thought Dean should know as quiet as possible as his brother slept barely a few feet away. This hotel room was smaller than most of the ones they had shared. Nevertheless, it would work Sam had had enough experience to get used to all types of hotel rooms. Some he wished he didn't have to remember ever again. He picked up his legal pad and read over everything he had collected thus far.   
  
Pascagoula hadn't just had a few cases of murder or supposed suicide. Over the course of a couple hundred years, it had hundreds of murders. In addition, the couple he had dreamt about just happened to be the fifth one this year. He stared at the newspaper clippings and frowned. He really hated when he got those dreams and he couldn't help the people he’d dreamt about. It didn't make any sense.   
  
His gaze drifted back to the screen and he pulled up the list of couples who had died prior to the couple he’d dreamt about. There was always something different about each one. He was trying to connect the dots but it just wasn't happening right now. There was an African American man and a Caucasian woman both the same age that were involved despite the issues it had caused. There was a wealthy girl and the boy she loved---who happened to be from the wrong side of tracks. They’d been planning on running away together according to the local police. There was an older man who was the stepfather to an eighteen-year old girl and who had supposedly been having an affair with his stepdaughter. Then there were two final couples one a lesbian couple and the other two gay men.   
  
He tried to use his smarts and his wit. He tried to connect the missing dots but they were all so different, he thought.  
  
***  
  
Dean was surprised to find he standing on a half-finished or was it a half-demolished bridge. The sky stretched above him in a blanket of stars that sparkled like millions of tiny shards of glass. A deep unnerving silence surrounded him---no wind, no birds, nothing.   
  
He started to walk along the bridge and suddenly he heard singing, hundreds of voices singing the saddest song he'd ever heard, but he didn't understand the words. It just felt like a funeral dirge to him and he broke out in a cold sweat.   
  
Backing off the bridge his hands began to shake as the song grew louder and somewhere in all those voices was the steady rhythmic beat of a drum or maybe it was his own heart beat. A sudden rushing sound filled his ears, the sound of water traveling over rocks and tree roots and he was no longer on the bridge, but floating in darkness, unable to control his own body and unable to breath without inhaling thick earthy water.   
  
His mouth contorted in a scream and he felt the rush of icy water fill his mouth and fill his lungs until he began to sink. A soft whisper caressed his ear, the words were alien, and yet he knew their meaning---come be free.  
  
***  
  
Sam glanced up from the laptop when he heard Dean choke back a cry, his legs thrashing wildly. What the hell was going on, Sam wondered? He stood, walking over to the bed and looked down at his brother’s face. It was contorted with something he hadn't seen much of when it came to Dean---fear. Oh, he didn't like this at all. What was happening, he wondered?   
  
He reached out and shook his brother’s arm gently. "Dean?"  
  
Clawing at the sheets Dean moaned and whimpered, his body curling up in a fetal position as he gasped for air. In that dark corner of his mind where dreams existed he was drowning and he couldn't swim in this world, he was reacting as if the dream were true. He kicked out, pushing the covers off the bed and he flopped onto his back sucking desperately for air.  
  
Okay this situation was not improving, Sam thought, as he leaned over grabbing Dean’s shoulders and pushed him back flat on the bed, but Dean was thrashing too badly. He frowned crawling into the bed then pulled himself over Dean. Using all his weight to keep Dean pinned and as still as possible he yelled his brother’s name. "DEAN!" Calm wouldn't work here Dean needed to wake up now before he hurt himself or worse. "Dean wake up NOW!"  
  
At Sam's words, Dean's eyes flew open, clouded, and unseeing, his chest heaving as he gulped in air. He bucked beneath Sam's weight a high pitched keening sound erupting in the back of his throat. His head thrashed from side to side as he choked back a scream and his nose began bleeding.   
  
"NO! SAM!!!" His voice rose filled with terror.  
  
Sam watched the blood pour from Dean's nose and panic came rushing through his veins filling him completely. He lifted his hands cupping Dean's face gently in his palms. "Dean." His voice wavered a little. "Dean it was a dream. I'm right here."  
  
A soft whimper slipped past Dean's trembling lips and he blinked. A few seconds passed as his eyes cleared and he focused on Sam's terrified face. "Sam?" He shook his head and blinked again. "What the fuck are you sitting on me for?" He croaked out through a throat raw from screaming.  
  
Lifting one hand to his mouth he tried to keep from throwing up and he fought hard to keep his eyes from misting up. That was one of the single most terrifying things he’d ever witnessed. The only way it could have gotten worse was if he’d watched Dean die. He shook his head because he was not in the mood for games. He let his other hand slide from Dean’s face and stroked his fingers beneath Dean's nose pulling his hand back to let him see it.   
  
"How long?"  
  
"What?" Dean mumbled a look of confusion in his eyes as he studied Sam's bloody fingers. Pushing at Sam, he growled. "Let me up Sam---"  
  
Sam growled leaning in and pushed his body harder against Dean's. When he spoke his voice broke around the edges. "FUCK YOU DEAN!! Tell me how LONG! How long have you been having these nosebleeds? Are you still sick? Is it worse? Have you been hiding it? What's going on Dean?"  
  
"Fuck Sam!" Dean snarled. "What do you want from me? So I have a little fucking nosebleed every once and a while." He turned his gaze from Sam's furious face and focused on the motel room door.  
  
Sam's chest hurt so badly and the urge to vomit just became too much to bear. He rolled off Dean, hit the floor, running into the bathroom and dropped to his knees retching into the toilet. He kept going until he was dry heaving. Dean was lying to him even now. Even after everything he saw. Dean was hiding---always hiding from him---and he felt so lost. If he couldn't get through to his brother then who in the hell could, he wondered?  
  
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, flushed, and then pushed himself up. Going to the sink, he washed his hands slowly and then he walked out, grabbing his coat.   
  
"Everything you need to know is on the pad and on the screen of the laptop. I can't find the connection. I'm going to walk to the river it's not far from here and check it out myself." Opening the door Sam exited, closing it softly behind him with a click. Dean could lie to him all he wanted but Sam didn't have to stick around to watch him do it.   
  
Dean watched Sam leave and his chest constricted as he sat up unwanted tears welled in his eyes. "God dammit..."   
  
He was on his feet and running after Sam. He didn’t give a damn how he looked as he darted out of the room and onto the sidewalk, bare-footed, bare-chested, and with blood on his face. He glanced up the sidewalk and saw Sam trudging towards the river and he ran has fast as he could.   
  
"Sam! Jesus fucking Christ stop!"  
  
Sam's back tensed as he began walking faster. He had left for a reason. He didn't want to do this---not now or ever. He was so very, very exhausted by it. It was always this way, always. Sam Winchester never knew the deep secrets of either his brother’s or his father’s hearts. Dean and his father knew each other’s secrets because they were blood through and through, but Sam didn't know them. Sam only knew his own secrets and Dean knew them all but a few. He didn't have enough hands for the number of secrets Dean harbored inside his heart and away from him.   
  
"Sammy! Please!" Dean caught up to Sam, grabbing his arm. "Please for fuck's sake Sammy...just stop!" He yanked Sam around his eyes filled with desperation. "Since Nebraska---okay! Since god damn Nebraska..." suddenly the tears started to fall and he hated it. He hated how desperately he wanted Sam not to push him away.


	3. Chapter 3

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Beneath Cold Waters Part 3/4  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: Why was the gun Dean gave Sam in ‘Asylum’ empty? Sam is starting to notice that there’s something wrong with Dean that he isn’t telling him. Consumed by his own guilt, over his actions at the asylum and Dean’s reluctance to speak about them or the secret Dean is hiding they travel to a small Mississippi town. Something of legend is murdering couples along the Pascagoula River---something that might change their lives forever or kill them as well.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and directly after the events of ‘Asylum’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
previous Series parts and chapters can be found [ here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=crazyjoyfulgirl&keyword=Secrets+and+Bonds+Series&filter=all)  
  
***  
  
Sam's skin seemed to vibrate to the point where he could feel his brother’s touch through his entire system and it froze him to the spot. He watched Dean’s tears fall and it only served to ground him tighter to the spot where he stood. He swore he could feel himself sinking into the ground.   
  
Eyelashes fluttering he turned, their movement changing to soft slow blinks. "You've been having the nose bleeds since Nebraska and you didn't tell me---why?" His voice was cold and distant, but he wasn't sorry about it. Dean had no idea what it did to him to be so closed off from the one person he cared for the most.  
  
Swallowing hard Dean inhaled sharply and shook his head, his gaze shifting from Sam to the cold concrete of the sidewalk. "I...I didn't think it was important..." then he looked up at Sam quickly, "...I'm okay Sam...I feel fine and it's not like I'm dying or anything. It doesn't happen all the time." His voice trembled for a moment and then he whispered softly, "...don't be angry Sammy...please?"  
  
Sam pulled away. "This time Dean…this time you might not be dying. Fine you got me there, but what if---huh? What if that day comes and because you won't talk to me like you won't talk to me now you die? Do you have any goddamn clue how that feels---that kind of fear? That nagging pain in your stomach that just keeps eating at you. Because you don't know what's going on? Why you’re feeling something that you think you shouldn't be feeling? Do you?"  
  
"Yes...I do." Dean turned away from Sam, his arms hugging his bandaged chest. "I'm sorry I didn't want you to worry. I never wanted to hurt you." His eyes glazed over as he stared out across the park they stood next too. Beyond it he could hear the faint sound of the river that was hidden by the moss draped trees. "I'd never hurt you deliberately."  
  
Staring at his brother’s back Sam sighed. "How have I ever given you reason to worry? How have I ever scared you? How have I ever made you wonder? I don't keep shit from you Dean. I have what---one secret---two if I'm lucky?" The muscle in his jaw ticked. "You never mean to Dean…that's the problem. You don't mean to, but you do it. You keep things from me and it makes me feel so…disconnected from you." He raised his hands then in surrender. "I'm not angry---alright? I'm just---I'm done with this for now. You’re hurt and tired and I have a river to check out. Just go back and get some rest Dean."   
  
Sam turned back to the road and headed back towards the river.  
  
Staring after Sam's retreating back Dean swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth and sighed. "Never you Sam---just dad." He turned away and headed back to the motel, his chest heavy and tight, as he wondered how he could ever tell Sam the truth about the dreams. He would have to eventually, but for now he felt just as lost as Sam.  
  
***  
  
When he got the opportunity Sam crossed the road and headed into the wooded area along the river. The river was less than a mile into the woods and it ran the entire length of this area of Alton, so Sam could hit it no matter which way he picked to go. It was just a matter of getting to it now.  
  
Sam had been walking for some time when he pushed a branch out of his face and let out a relieved breath. "Finally."   
  
In front of him was the river in question. The Pascagoula River was a bubbling flowing beautiful expanse of clear water. Sam didn't know what he’d expected, but maybe he’d been hoping for something more morbid---a few tires and stray bones along the banks maybe. He dropped down on a large rock near the bank watching the water flow, looking for any sign of life. Some fish, he thought, maybe anything to complete this picture of perfection that would go well with the song of the birds and bugs.   
  
Still though, he felt it right under the surface of his skin. That telltale feeling of a niggling power that shouldn't---didn’t belong. It wasn't anything natural it was something closer to Sam's style. As soon as he thought that the birds seemed to cease their song and he couldn't have pinpointed a buzz of a fly or the whir of a grasshopper’s legs if he’d wanted to. He glanced back to the river and the clear waters seemed to have darkened. No longer could he see the river’s bottom. Neither could he pick out all the vibrant colors and shapes that had been there moments before. It was as if a cover had been dropped to conceal it all.   
  
"What the hell?" He murmured and then he heard it.  
  
A sad, melodic singing seemed to flow from no where along the twisting river and over him. He couldn't pick out the words or understand them but he knew it was bittersweet and filled with pain. It seeped beneath his skin, and filled him up with an emotion he couldn't define. Slipping down from the rock, he inched closer on his knees to the river, trying to get a closer look beneath its surface again. He still had his wits about him but the singing still seemed to unnerve him as if it was trying to open something he didn't want opened.   
  
***  
  
Sitting at the laptop scanning the notes that Sam had written Dean felt a shiver travel down his spine. His fingers danced out an erratic rhythm on the scattered pages and suddenly a tiny blossom of red spread across the yellow pages causing his eyes to narrow. Lifting his hand he touched the curve of his top lip and drew back his fingers stained with blood.   
  
"What the fuck?" He frowned.   
  
This was new, he thought. Before now the nosebleeds were connected directly to the dreams, but he wasn't sleeping now and he sure the hell wasn't dreaming. His gaze lowered back to the page he'd been reading and he noticed that the blood had dropped just next to a note that Sam had written in his loose scrawl on a newspaper clipping dated from March 15,1936.   
  
He read the note carefully.   
  
'This one different...young woman found drowned...man was already dead, but his body found with hers.'   
  
Dean picked up the short article and scanned it.  
  
***   
  
Local Debutante Found Drowned  
  
The body of Maria Del Fontaine age 20 was found on the banks of the Pascagoula River Saturday morning. Preliminary reports are that she found next to the body of local Negro Pete Whatley age 21 that was convicted earlier this month of her rape.   
  
Before the sentencing could be completed, Whatley was found hanging in a tree at the edge of Alton Park. Most locals believe he was unable to face his guilty conviction so committed suicide in an attempt to flee justice. Other town folks are of the mind that the Klu Klux Klan served justice and that Miss Del Fontaine’s death was in retaliation for the death of Whatley.   
  
Continued on Page 8A  
  
***  
  
Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed the knot of pain that was pulsing between his eyes. "Sam..." he whispered, "...shit that's it." Coldness engulfed him and he stood up faster than he'd intended, knocking the chair over. His eyes widened, his pupils dilating so wide his eyes were black rimmed with green. "Sam! Fuck...Sam..." he headed for the door his head pounding in time with the beat of his heart.  
  
***  
  
Sam's fingers hovered above the river’s surface as he stared down into the water that was now murky when it had been clear less than twenty minutes before.   
  
"What's going on here?" He muttered to himself as his fingertips grazed the surface.   
  
The singing stayed at a soft, sad frequency, echoing through the woods, but in his head, it was much stronger and far more imposing. His heart seemed to beat with the rhythm of the drums. Whatever was happening here it was something drawn from desperation and a great sadness. He just couldn't connect the dots---couldn't find the connections---but he wanted so badly to do just that.  
  
Steeling himself, Sam dipped his fingers into the cold water and he swirled them around. When nothing happened, he shoved his hand down deeper until his fingers touched the bottom. Grabbing a handful of rocks, he pulled his hand back to the surface. He knelt up opening his hand that held the wet smooth rocks rolling them around as he continued staring into the water. Gradually the singing died away the woods quieting.   
  
"Huh...that was weird."  
  
***  
  
Dean had no idea where Sam was other than checking out the river, but he had the sudden thought he needed to find Sam. Cutting through the park and heading in the direction of the park, he wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve as his gaze darted back and forth through the trees.   
  
"Sam!!" He trotted past the playground and the sound of the water became louder. "Sam!! Where are you?! Sam!!"   
  
His chest felt tight and his head was hurting like a son of a bitch, but all he could think of was finding Sam. He needed to find Sam and he needed to find him now.   
  
***  
  
Crouched on the bank, near the edge of the water, Sam continued playing with the rocks as he stared into the water, the smooth round bits cradled in his palm. "Okay connection...connection…what's the damn connection?"   
  
He knew no one was listening to him, at least no one that would provide him with the answers to solve this, but he needed to figure this out. It was what he did. He was good at this. It was just the murders didn't match up. The couple angle fit with every pair, but other than that, it was like the path went cold. Just like the water in the river. It was right there at the edge of his mind and he could touch it, but he just couldn't grab it. Like the feeling that the music gave him, the feeling that there was something it was trying to get to within him. He bounced a rock in his palm, then leaned back on his heels, tossing it into the water. It hit the water with a plop and air bubbles rose up from where it had sank.   
  
"Come on Sam think."  
  
***  
  
Running through a grove of magnolias, Dean skidded to a stop, leaning over and bracing his palms on his knees, panting for breath. It was getting harder to breathe and he was sure that the only way the pain in his head would stop was if he found Sam.   
  
Straightening up he inhaled and screamed as loud as he could. "Sam god dammit answer me!!!"   
  
When there was no immediate answer, he started running again, following the river as it flowed peacefully next to him. Why he was sure that he had to find his brother he couldn't say, he just fucking knew it, and you didn't argue with human instinct whether it was juiced up psychically or not.   
  
"Sam!! Come on dude answer me!!"  
  
Sam's ears perked up and he stood. "Dean?" His brother’s name left his lips as a soft whisper, his legs feeling weak and wobbly, but he shrugged it off thinking it was just lack of circulation. "Dean?" His voice was a little louder this time as the last few remaining rocks clinked together in his palm. "I'm here Dean!"  
  
A sigh of relief escaped Dean as he pushed through a thicket of sickly sweet gardenia and his gaze settled on Sam standing at the river’s edge. He knew he must look a mess with leaves and twigs caught on his jacket and his face flushed, but he was just happy to see Sam.   
  
"Thank God!" He yelled as he crossed the last few feet on weak legs. "Are you okay?" He stepped into Sam's space his wide gaze traveling over Sam from the top of his head to bottom of his boots.  
  
"Yes, Forest Monster I'm fine.” Sam chuckled. “Are you okay? You look like you went a couple rounds with an elm or something. And dude the elm totally won." He reached out picking a twig from Dean's jacket.  
  
Dean pulled Sam into a desperate hug, clinging to him, his heart pounding. "I found it Sammy...I found the connection." He breathed in Sam's scent and slowly his heartbeat eased and the pain in his head began to fade.   
  
"Okay..." Sam muttered just letting his brother hug him. He was surprised to say the least about the hug not to mention the fact that Dean had figured it out this quick and before he did. "So what is it?"  
  
Dean pulled back an embarrassed expression flickering across his face. He cleared his throat and started plucking twigs and various flora bits from his jacket. "It was the note you made on that newspaper article from 1936. Dude think about all the recent couples that have died. There is one thing every one of them shares---forbidden love." He glanced up at Sam through his lashes as he shook his head shaking bits of bark and leaf from his hair. "Every last damn one of them."  
  
It took a few seconds for the information to sink in, but when it had, Sam felt so damn stupid. All the articles he read, all the couples, every single one was a relationship that would have gotten a lot of heat. "I'll be a son of a bitch." Sam threw the rest of the rocks into the river. "Of course." He lifted his hands running them through his hair as he paced along the river; eyes riveted on the clear water. "Gay couples are frowned on. A couple comprised of different races in Mississippi." He gave his brother a look his eye brow raising, "…the step-father and the step-daughter." Sam bounced on his heels in a victory dance. "That's it…you’re right that's what it is."   
  
"See not as stupid as I look." Dean smirked.   
  
Sam laughed, running up to Dean and grabbing him, lifting him up, and shaking him. "You got your brain scarecrow!"  
  
"Put me down!" Dean squirmed. "Have you lost your mind? Did you fall and hit your head? Oh, I know I shouldn't have dropped you on your head that time when you were two!" An evil grin curled Dean's lips.  
  
"What?" Sam frowned and then glared at Dean as he dropped him on his ass. "That's it no more brotherly love for you dude." He kicked some of the rocks near the toe of his boot towards Dean. "Ass! Who drops little kids on their heads?"  
  
"Not me...jeez dude get a sense of humor." Dean rolled his eyes as he got up, rubbing his ass. "Dammit that hurt Sam."  
  
"Aww…is Dean's poor ass all owie?" Sam rolled his eyes, kicking more rocks at him just because. "Come on let's get some answers I got everything I could from here. I'll tell you the creepy shit on the way."  
  
Snorting Dean trotted after Sam, his voice echoing back along the river as they disappeared through the foliage. "Hey, ain't you gonna kiss my boo-boo?"  
  
As their voices faded in the distance, the surface of the river began to swirl, a faint mist rising upward and drifting on the soft breeze. From beneath the surface, the soft sound of mourning voices rose in a symphony of grief and longing.  
  
***  
  
"Dean stop asking ever damn old person you come across. Not every older person is crazy and thinks their town is haunted. You’re seriously starting to creep the fuck out of people. You’re the one who taught me you always know the right one when you find them." Sam hissed under his breath as Dean tried to grab the arm of an old lady walking her Pomeranian. Dean had stopped and asked at least six elderly people if there was 'Some creepy shit going on down by the river' in the past twenty minutes.  
  
"Fine!" Dean growled, his lower lip pushing out in a pout as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you have a better idea...Brainiac?"  
  
"Yes, dummy I do. We just keep walking until we find the right one. Jesus Dean your brain is seriously leaking when you forget the stuff you taught me." Sam snorted as he moved up the sidewalk.   
  
He was searching for that one person that just seemed to not belong. It was either that or the one person in town that held all the secrets that everyone else denied. He nodded his head across the street to a decrepit gas station. There was an old man in a pair of greasy overalls, a red cap and boots that were caked with mud, sitting outside, a paper in his lap.   
  
"What about him?"  
  
Cocking his head Dean studied the old man with narrowed eyes. "Well dad used to say the two people that always know the most in small towns and like to talk are the bartender and the mechanic. Why not give it a shot?" He shrugged and checked both ways before he jogged across the street.  
  
"You’re welcome." Sam muttered running after him.   
  
***  
  
Once they were both across the street they walked up to the old man, Sam taking the lead.   
  
"Hello?" Sam waved. "My name is John and this is Paul and were college students doing a paper on town legends. We were just wondering if you could talk to us about the river here in town...Pascagoula---right?"  
  
Tipping his cap back and squinting, the old man raised a snowy white brow. "Well...well college boys now is it? You all down from Biloxi? My grandson goes to that college up there...can't right well remember the name of it to tell ya the truth." He shifted pulling a can of Skoal out of his back pocket and popped the lid. "You boys don't mind if an old man takes a chaw do ya?"  
  
"No, not that one, sorry, but we don't mind do we Paul?" Sam elbowed his brother in the side. "Paul doesn't talk much. I'm trying to get him out more. He's really shy, but we really need to work together for this paper. We heard so much about that river and we can't seem to find anyone to tell us about it."  
  
Dean kicked at the rocks and flashed a shy smile at the mechanic who gave him a quick nod, then stuffed a wad in his jaw. While the mechanic was busy with that Dean glared at Sam and mouthed 'You are so dead, dude'. The shy demeanor returned as soon as the old man looked up from tucking his Skoal away.   
  
"Well boys I'll be tellin' ya that ya came to the right man. Most folks here bouts like to ignore some stuff they shouldn't." He waved at the bench and grinned showing off a set of tobacco yellowed teeth. "Take a load off boys...got some pop in the cooler there. You’re welcome to have one."  
  
Sam smiled sitting down on the bench and patted it. "Come on Paul it's okay the nice man won't bite you." He turned to the old man and whispered. "He really doesn't get out much. He's more of a Dungeons and Dragons freak---indoors with helmets and plastic swords."  
  
Clenching his fists Dean kept his eyes down and hoped the angry flush he felt on his cheeks would be misinterpreted as embarassment. He sat down and as he did, he kicked Sam in the shin.  
  
"So boys you're wantin' to know about the river do ya. Well there'd be somethin' down there...a whole lot of somethin'. Been down there since before this town was built." He leaned forward spitting in a rusty coffee can. "Been there since them injuns disappeared."  
  
Sam shook his leg and glared at Dean quickly before giving his full attention to the old man. "Indians?"  
  
"Yeah, whole damn Pascagoula tribe up and walked themselves into the river." He leaned back a thoughtful expression on his sun-weathered face. "Story's like that play by that English writer...you know who I mean...wrote a bunch of plays."  
  
Sam raised a brow. "Ummm…there's a lot of English writers. So could you tell us the story?"  
  
"Oh, hell that's gonna bug me." He tapped his temple. "The old mind ain't what it used to be. Anyway there was this Biloxi princess and she was betrothed to a warrior of her tribe. Problem was she loved someone else. Had given her heart to a Pascagoula tribesman...and you bein' young might know what that's like. Love ain't somethin' that can be dictated---love is just love." He frowned as he leaned forward again, hands on his knees. "Turned out her husband to be wasn't to happy and neither was her family."  
  
It dawned on Sam then which English writer the man was talking about. "Shakespeare. You’re thinking about Shakespeare…Romeo and Juliet…doomed lovers from two different families. They loved each other fiercely, but their family would have never let them be together." It fit so perfectly with the reports in the paper and on the Internet---all the couples were exactly like that.   
  
"Well, hell yeah Romeo and Juliet that would be it." The old man grinned. "My wife Bess...god bless her soul was Juliet in the high school play when I first saw her."  
  
Dean glanced up and spoke for the first time since Sam had introduced them. "So what happened to them, sir?" He added the sir as a last minute thought and then ducked his head shyly.  
  
He hummed thoughtfully as his gaze settled on Dean. "Well don't you know the whole thing started a war between the Biloxi and the Pascagoula. Problem now was that the Pascagoula they were a more peace lovin' tribe not so many warriors there not like them damn Biloxi who thrived on fightin'. So rather than be captured and turned to slavery don't you know that them Pascagoula gathered on the banks of the river, their princess and her lover in the lead. They marched straight into the deepest part of the river and drowned themselves, every last one of them men, women, and children. Rather death than the bloodshed of a love fueled war."  
  
"That's..." Sam swallowed, "…that's terrible." He focused then, shoving aside the tragedy to get what he needed to hear. "So they think the river is haunted by the spirits of the Pascagoula tribe?"  
  
The old man threw back his head laughing a deep smoky laugh, slapping his thigh. Dean turned to Sam quirking a brow, but remained silent. "Son they don't think they know. Every last damn fool in this town has known for generations back. Them injuns marched into that river under the new moon and every since they been pullin' others into their sacrifice. Every year six months out of the year they call out to lovers and them lovers answer. No one ever sees the truth until its too damn late. Just cause society don't think your love ain't right don't mean shit. But there are always those who love and suffer and them spirits out there know. They sit and wait have been forever it seems."  
  
Sam nodded, scrubbing his hands on his pants. "Well, I think that's all I need." He glanced over at Dean. "Have anything you want to ask Paul?"  
  
Dean stood chewing his lip thoughtfully. "Yeah, actually." He glanced at the old man and frowned. "How do they know? I mean the spirits how do they know which people to take?"  
  
Tugging down his cap the older man flashed Dean a smile, his eyes sparkling. "Why son they can see down deep in a man or woman's soul. They'll see the truth no matter how much you might try and hide it---even from yourself." He nodded and tipped his cap in a farewell. "Now you boys take care and you steer clear of that river." he glanced up at the late afternoon sky. "New moon's tonight and they got two more to take, then they'll rest for another year."  
  
"Right." Sam shook the older man’s hand. "Well, thank you. We'll just be going now thanks for all your help." He nodded to Dean then headed back to the road Dean on his heels.   
  
Waiting until they were far enough away, he glanced at Dean. "Okay, so we have to take care of this before those spirits get a chance to suck two more people down. We don't have a hell of a lot of time here."  
  
"Doesn't seem like it." Dean shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "How the hell are we going to find out who they’re going to take, dude? Shit this town is too damn big to do that and it ain't like we can go door to door asking people if they’re having socially unacceptable relationships." He sighed in frustration.  
  
"Fuck." Sam grunted as he started to rub at his temples. "I had that dream for a reason I just have to figure out how to fix this. There are too many people and that river is too long to just patrol the whole course of it. We could be at one end while the couple is drowning at another."   
  
"Dream..." Dean mused quietly staring at the sidewalk.   
  
He focused his thoughts on the dream he'd had just hours ago. The dream that had he and Sam in a furious argument. He'd almost forgotten about it, but now the images came flooding back and a shiver of ice crept down his spine. A broken bridge, the water, the singing, and the experience of drowning all wrapped up in one neat and useless image.   
  
"Dammit what the hell does a broken bridge have to do with anything?" He mumbled under his breath.  
  
Sam stopped and turned. "Broken bridge? What broken bridge?" He looked around but he didn't see anything to indicate what the hell Dean was talking about. “Dean there's no broken bridges here. What does a broken bridge have to do with people dying?"  
  
Looking up with wide confused eyes Dean frowned. "Huh? What?"  
  
"You said what does a broken bridge have to do with anything Dean. What broken bridge?"  
  
"Uh...just thinking." He glanced back down at the ground. Shit had he said that aloud or was Sam reading minds now.   
  
Sam frowned as that feeling of being closed off from Dean descended on him again, but there was no time for a fight here on the street. "Let's just get back to the room." He moved ahead, his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to sort out how to cover the amount of space they needed to watch. He knew it was damn near impossible. Maybe this was going to be something he and his brother couldn't solve.   
  
"Sam?" Dean's voice was soft. He hadn't wanted to tell Sam about the precog dreams, but he'd seen that look in Sam's eyes and he knew it was just damn foolish to ignore the fact that something was going to happen tonight and two people would die. Maybe he could just act like it was a one time thing, that he was as surprised by it as Sam. Sam didn't have to know the whole truth just enough to get them through this one fucked up mess.  
  
Sam halted his stride. "What?"  
  
"I was thinking..." Dean looked at his brother’s slumped shoulders and he couldn't do it. This wasn't the right time or the right place. "Maybe we can narrow down the possible location. I mean we know it's the river, but where were the bodies found?"  
  
Again, a light bulb lit up and another wave of feeling stupid hit Sam. "Don't remember but my notes should tell us." With that, Sam started walking faster back to the hotel.  
  
***  
  
An hour later Dean was sitting Indian style in the middle of the bed, a map of the area spread out in front of him and five colored markers, staring at the marks he'd made designating the areas where the previous five couples had been found. "So all the bodies were found along a mile and a half stretch of shallows..." he paused glancing over at Sam, "...that’s one of the boundaries of the Alton City Park, but they were found on either side of the river." He sighed as he rubbed at his itchy nose leaving a smear of bright yellow marker along his left cheek.  
  
Sam smirked, rubbing his cheek. "You got a little...on your cheek there." He rubbed a little harder to show Dean the spotted area.   
  
Rolling his eyes Dean dropped the marker, licked his thumb, and scrubbed at the offending marker splotch. "So what do you think Sam? Three sets of bodies on the west bank and two on the east bank...think we should stick to the east?"  
  
"Maybe you can do the east and I can take the west. One of us to a side we can cover the ground better. I mean do you really want to jump in that damn river to get to the other side if something goes down?" Sam gathered up the papers in his lap and dropped them onto the table. "I just think it's safer that way man."  
  
"Divide and conquer. You're starting to think like a soldier again." Dean chuckled. "Dude I'm starving." He fell back against the mattress, stretching, his tee shirt riding up. "No wonder you're so damn skinny...all this college boy shit just burns the calories up."  
  
Sam snorted. "I was never a soldier Dean, not now or ever, I'm just smart." His gaze roamed from Dean's face to the expanse of belly that was exposed and he froze again. It was always the same, there were moments when he would just tense up and stare, no rhyme or reason, he just couldn't help himself. His mind would blank and he could never figure it out. Nevertheless, his gaze was stubborn, sticking to that exact spot of Dean's body.   
  
"Calories."   
  
The word was quiet and as soon as he said it the sad, quiet, desperate singing from the river came back full force. It consumed his mind and rushed through his veins like the very river they were investigating. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and shook his head, but it only became worse. The control he’d had earlier, when it was just something spooky he could overlook, was escaping him.   
  
"Dean...can you...get me a Tylenol please?"  
  
Sitting up Dean frowned. "You okay, Sammy?" Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress he adjusted his shirt and gave Sam a quick glance before he retrieved Tylenol and a cup of water from the bathroom. Kneeling at Sam's feet he lowered his voice when he saw the pain lines around Sam's eyes and mouth. "Here take these." He held out the two caplets.  
  
Holding out a shaking hand, Sam grabbed the Tylenol, just when the box inside him that should never be opened was reached by the drums and singing. He lifted the Tylenol swallowing it dry, and then he stood. "I just think I'm tired and hungry dude. What do you want I'll go get? Won't take me long."  
  
"You gonna be okay?" Dean frowned at the tremors he saw run through Sam's hands.  
  
Sam nodded as he headed to the door opening it. "I'll be fine Dean." Sam walked through the door and paused. "Dean?"   
  
"Yeah, Sammy?" He raised one brow as he stood and began folding the map up.  
  
"Love ya man." Sam said softly then closed the door behind him.   
  
Outside Sam started up the sidewalk then jumped off it, heading across the road. Reaching the other side, he walked down the embankment and into the woods. The singing was louder here, but there was a soft whisper beneath it all that he could understand.   
  
'Come be free...come be free.'  
  
***  
  
Dean glanced up at the door and a frown creased his brow. Something hadn't been right in Sam's voice and suddenly he felt the room begin to tilt. He dropped to the bed his gut twisting in a knot and his hands shaking. The image of the bridge from his dream flickered against the back of his clenched eyelids and suddenly he knew. He knew that sometimes a bridge wasn't just a bridge.   
  
Taking a deep breath he lifted his gaze to the door and forced himself to stand. "God not him...not Sammy..." he grabbed his coat and ripped the desk apart looking for what he needed knowing that each second counted. Sighing with relief, he shoved the items he needed into his bag and ran out the door. "Not him...not him..." he growled beneath his breathe.  
  
***  
  
Sam's feet seemed to move on their own knowing his ultimate destination. He was being consumed by the singing and the drums, consumed by the need to get where he was going, and to do what had to be done. It had to stop---he had to do this---the pain and the feelings. The world wouldn't ever understand it. Only they understood.   
  
'Come be free.'   
  
"Yes."  
  
***  
  
Dean cursed, reaching into the knapsack over his shoulder and pulling out the flashlight. Fuckers, he thought, it'd have to be on the new moon when there was no light, and the goddamn park was as black as pitch. He flipped the switch and the powerful beam sliced through the darkness as he jogged through the park.   
  
"Shit...shit..." Dean mumbled stopping to get his bearings.   
  
In the distance, he could hear the flow of the water and he spun around following that sound. Why hadn't he figured it out before now, he wondered? The bridge was the connection between them and it should have been obvious or maybe it was just his own desires he was thinking about. He paused again and searched the darkness for any sign of Sam. His heat was beating wildly in his chest and he prayed for the first time in a long time.   
  
"God please just let me find him in time." He started running faster, the silvery beam of the flashlight bobbing ahead of him and cleaving the shadows like a blade.  
  
***  
  
Sam came to a dead stop on the riverbank, his gaze drifting down to the water. The music faded away, but the soft whisper of the voices remained.   
  
'Come be free…they will never allow your love. They will never understand it, they will never agree. You will have so much pain, so much hurt. Let it go now. Come be free.'   
  
He nodded as one of his feet slid into the water, and then the other. The icy waves of cold held no effect over him as he continued walking further and deeper in.   
  
'Let us set you free.'   
  
"Yes."   
  
The water rose around his body and then he was being dragged beneath as the water clawed at him. Desperate fingers, pulling him deeper into the depths.   
  
'No more pain Sam.’  
  
***  
  
Dean reached the outer edge of the riverbank just in time to see Sam moving through chest high water and his heart stopped for two seconds.   
  
"Sam!!"   
  
He screamed as he raced to the edge of the bank shedding his jacket and dropping the knapsack. Dropping the flashlight, he glanced up to see the water close over Sam's head and he screamed again.   
  
"Sammy!!!"   
  
Jumping off the bank, he hit the water, and frigid slivers of ice bore into his body as he started swimming, his legs, and arms working desperately to get him to the center of the river. Taking a deep breath he dove beneath the surface and searched the icy darkness until he couldn't hold his breath any longer then he surfaced, bobbing like a cork as he sucked in the warm night air.   
  
"Sam!! Sam!!"   
  
His throat ached as he swam further out. God how far had he been out, Dean thought. Suddenly he felt something wrap around his ankle and pull. He had just enough time to take in a lung full of air before he was ripped down and beneath the surface. As the water closed over his head, he heard the voices singing for the first time.  
  
***  
  
It was all going to end and there was going to be no more pain. It wouldn't matter anymore. There would be no more fear of not being understood there would be no more moments of confusion. They were going to make it better. They were going to set him free.   
  
Sam's mouth opened and the water rushed into him and started filling him along with the music. Soon there would be nothing but blissful silence and the judgment of the world wouldn't effect him anymore.  
  
***   
  
This time, when Dean opened his eyes it wasn't just darkness he found. Swirls of misty light surrounded him and danced in the water giving everything an ethereal glow. In the mist were faces and hands that tugged and pulled at him, the soft thrum of drums echoing in his ears.   
  
He kicked out fought the ghostly hands that begged him to come and stay, to just be free. He twisted away from their icy caress his lungs beginning to burn and that's when he saw Sam.   
  
His body was limp, floating, and the spirits surrounded him pulling him close, and caressing his face. There was an expression of peace on his face that Dean had never seen before, his lips parted, and a trail of opalescent bubbles trailing to the surface. Dean screamed in his mind and he fought the clinging hands.   
  
Not Sammy never...  
  
He began swimming desperately and as he approached him he grasped at his water logged jacket, his fingers digging into the material. Kicking out he pulled Sam to his chest and headed for the surface as the spirits began howling with grief.  
  
***  
  
'Don't go…stay…stay with us. Don't you want to be free? Don't you want it all to end? Only we understand you Sam. Only we can set you free.'   
  
Sam was confused he wanted to stay, they were taking him, and they were making the pain stop. What was happening? Why weren't they keeping their promises?   
  
'Take me, set me free.'   
  
There was no speaking just a sudden wail.   
  
His eyes popped open and he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of water. His body reacted, he kicked and he screamed under the surface, he fought whatever had him and he tried to go back. It had to stop---it needed to stop. There was no place for the things inside him; there was nowhere for them to go.  
  
***  
  
Dean was completely shocked when suddenly Sam began to fight him and he choked as he inhaled water.   
  
No, fuck no, he thought.   
  
Sam had to be in their thrall and this was going to be a bitch. He tightened his arm around Sam’s chest and sending whatever gods might be out there a silent prayer and kicked harder. Suddenly he was bursting through to the surface and he was gasping in air into his lungs desperately.   
  
Sam was still fighting him even now and he did the only thing he could think of as he fought to get them both to shore. Coughing out water, his eyes watering, he spoke into Sam’s ear.  
  
"Sam, Sammy its me its Dean...its okay I got you," he whispered. "Stay with me Sammy. Stay with me---"  
  
Sam shook his head, trying to pull from Dean’s grip, trying to get back---he had to go back. His lips trembled as they turned blue, the cold starting to seep into his muscles. He could feel it now---the cold. He was no longer sheltered.   
  
"No...no...It’s going to stop. It will stop...have to be free." His body was shivering badly, his lungs aching as he coughed violently, and he couldn't focus. All he could think was that he needed to go back to the water and let them help him.  
  
"No Sammy...no you have to stay here with me." Dean whispered over Sam's heartbreaking protests.   
  
His guts were tied in a knot as he finally felt silt beneath his feet and he stumbled, pulling Sam tight to him, trying to ignore his shivering and his blue tinted skin. Still Sam fought and Dean used his last trump card as he drug Sam to shore.   
  
"Stay with me Sammy...I love you...its okay I love you."  
  
When Sam heard those words, the singing ceased, his brain clearing. It was like a sudden whoosh went through his system and all the fight left him. Dropping the effects of being in freezing water for so long, and struggling to breathe, caught up with him. His lips parted and he murmured four small words before he passed out.   
  
"I love you, too."  
  
Dean dropped next to Sam on the sandy shoal his whole body trembling with the cold and exertion. Tears welled in his eyes as it finally dawned on him. The spirits only took lovers who would have to fight what society thought and he choked on that thought at Sam's soft words. He lay his head on Sam's chest and listened to the beat of his heart. "God, Sammy...I didn't know---"   
  
He just lay there for a moment listening to the beating of Sam's heart and then he lifted up dragging himself to where his flashlight still lay, its beam causing the dew dabbled grass to sparkle. He dug into the backpack he'd carried with him and pulled out the cell. With freezing fingers he dialed 911 and then crawled back to Sam as he heard the operator answer.   
  
"911 emergency what is your emergency?"   
  
Dean coughed and glanced at Sam. "My brother...he fell into the river---"  
  
TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Beneath Cold Waters Part 4/4  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: Why was the gun Dean gave Sam in ‘Asylum’ empty? Sam is starting to notice that there’s something wrong with Dean that he isn’t telling him. Consumed by his own guilt, over his actions at the asylum and Dean’s reluctance to speak about them or the secret Dean is hiding they travel to a small Mississippi town. Something of legend is murdering couples along the Pascagoula River---something that might change their lives forever or kill them as well.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and directly after the events of ‘Asylum’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
previous Series parts and chapters can be found [ here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=crazyjoyfulgirl&keyword=Secrets+and+Bonds+Series&filter=all)  
  
***  
  
Flipping open her chart Doctor Ellis walked into the room, looking up, and smiled softly at the young man in hot pink scrubs she had just left no more than ten minutes ago. "I thought I told you Mr. Winchester that you needed to rest in your bed?" She stopped at the side of the hospital bed checking Sam’s vitals, then making notations on the file. "I told you I’d inform you how he was doing once I’d checked on him. You need to stay warm, Dean."  
  
Rolling his eyes Dean sighed. "I'm fine," he frowned as his worried gaze fell on Sam's pale face, "...I'd be better if you could have found something besides hot pink." He pulled at the scrub top he was wearing, his lips curling in an utter look of disgust.  
  
"This is a very small town Dean and you happened to roll in on a busy night. Therefore, we gave you what we had available. Really I'm sorry about the color." Doctor Ellis thumbed open each of Sam’s eyelids checking his pupils. "Do you know much about hypothermia Dean?"  
  
"A little bit," Dean sighed, his brow crinkling, "...that's Sammy's gig though. All that technical college crap." He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.  
  
She smiled in sympathy; her hand reaching out and stroking Dean's where it lay on the mattress entwined with his brother’s. "Well, let me enlighten you a little bit.” She closed the chart and sat it on the edge of the bed. "Hypothermia occurs when the body gets cold and loses heat faster than the body can replace it. If you have mild hypothermia, home treatment may be enough to bring your body temperature back up to normal, but in Sam's case, here…" her fingers stroked some of Sam's fallen hair out of his face, "…it's just a bit worse. He was exposed to the cold water a lot longer than he should have been. Since you jumped in to save him, you had no body heat to share in order to warm him in any way. So what we’re doing here..." she gestured to the IV that ran from a machine down into Sam's arm, "…is giving warmed intravenous fluids and warm, moist oxygen in addition to other treatments to warm his core body temperature. The reason your brother is asleep it possibly the trauma. This isn't a coma just an exhausted shut down is all. He may wake here very soon. It all depends on your brother’s strength."  
  
Dean's gaze never left Sam's face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "He'll be okay though---right? I mean when he wakes up? He's still going to be..." he choked up for a moment, his hand tightening around Sam's.   
  
He always gave Sam shit about chick flick moments, but right now it felt like his heart was being squeezed in a vice. Sam was all he had left and he couldn't lose him, not even a small part of him.  
  
Doctor Ellis set her hand on Dean's shoulder. "Early symptoms usually are shivering, cold, pale, or blue-gray skin, lack of interest or concern, poor judgment, mild unsteadiness in balance or walking, slurred speech, numb hands and fingers and difficulty performing tasks."  
  
She took a breath, squeezed his shoulder, and then continued. "Late symptoms are the trunk of the body being cold to the touch, muscles becoming stiff, slow pulse, breathing grows shallow and slow, weakness or sleepiness, confusion, loss of consciousness. He's already had a few of those from what you reported to the EMT. He may forget certain things that occurred. Selective memory happens sometimes due to trauma in these cases. Severe cold can disrupt certain brain functions." She sighed then picked up the chart. "Sam is remarkably strong though his vitals are very strong and the treatment is taking well. So when he wakes the only thing that might be gone are just moments in time before or during the accident."  
  
Tearing his gaze from Sam, though his hand tightened more around Sam's, Dean glanced up into Ellis' kind, calm face, and the maelstrom in his stomach begins to settle. "Thank you..." his voice came out raspy, "...thank you for helping Sammy. I couldn't...I didn't know what to do and I was..." he hated admitting he'd been scared so he just let that confession settle into a silent look.   
  
"It's alright Dean. He's your brother and I understand that kind of love. I have a younger brother. He is a huge pain, but if I ever lost him…" she replied softly, then smiled, "…I couldn't live without him. I'm just going to leave you with him, but I need you to promise you'll keep warm. Your hypothermia was not nearly as bad, but let’s not tempt the fates---alright?"  
  
Nodding Dean's gaze drifted back to Sam and he swallowed hard. No, you don't understand, he thought, not really. Yes, he loved Sam as the brother he was, but there was so much more there and he'd been tearing himself apart thinking about how much he wanted Sam. He swallowed back a soft sob and struggled to stand on still wobbly legs. Stumbling to the other bed, he pulled off the blankets and wrapped himself in them, then turned back to settle in the chair next to Sam's bed. He pulled his bare feet up into the cocoon of blankets, reached out, and his hand wrapped around Sam's again. Sam had said he loved him, but he was half drowned and not in his right mind, Dean thought.  
  
***  
  
Sam's eyes flickered behind his lids then he coughed, once and the second cough was harder to get out then the first. "Fuck..." His voice was hoarse and grating and foreign he could barely recognize it as his own.   
  
He opened his eyes, but couldn't really focus because of an intense light above him. The rest of the room was dim and quiet except for the whir of what he thought was some type of machine. Sometimes the whir stopped and there was the sound of what could be a button pushing or a trigger clicking. He couldn’t really pick it apart and trying to made his headache.   
  
Tilting his head a little, the flair of pain was instant, and he hissed, his hands tightening. One hand gripped the blanket, but the other was already holding something---something solid, warm, and small. It took him a few seconds to forge through the pain and then he murmured. "Dean?"  
  
A soft muffled, sleepy groan escaped Dean and then he lifted his head blinking sleepily. "Sammy?" His voice was tight and rough as he dropped his bare feet to the cool tile floor and the blankets fell away. He pulled himself closer to the bed and tears welled over his lashes dripping down his cheeks, his lips trembling. "Oh God..." it was a rusty whisper, but it held every emotion possible. His head dropped to their entwined hands and his back began to shake with silent sobs.  
  
Sam lifted his free hand settling it on Dean's shaking back. "Hey." Talking hurts so damn bad, he thought, the effort nearly exhausted him and he'd only been awake a few moments, not even a full minute. "Hey, shhh…it's alright." He patted Dean’s back awkwardly because he had something in his arm restricting his movement. He narrowed it down in his brain though it didn’t seem to want to work with him at the moment. It was a needle and an IV line pumping something into him. "Come on dude you’re having a major girl moment." He tried for amusing because he was confused as to what was happening.   
  
He remembered being in the hotel room and pinpointing locations. He remembered talking out a system about who was taking what side of the river and then there was nothing. Just a void of empty space he couldn’t seem to explain.  
  
Lifting his head Dean swallowed hard and met Sam's dark confused gaze. He lifted his free arm and scrubbed it across his face. When he finally spoke his voice was rough. "You tell anyone and I'll deny it punk." It was Dean's usual joke, but there was pain and worry in his eyes. "You okay lil' bro'?"  
  
Sam tried to sit up, but the pain in his head seemed to spread, so he just stayed in the half up, half down sprawl he was in. "I guess…just a little out of it you know? Sore all over and my chest hurts. Head aches and I'm having trouble remembering things. A little cold, too."  
  
Standing up, Dean released Sam's hand and began pulling the blankets up around Sam. "You scared the shit out of me asshole." His voice cracked on the 'asshole' and he offered Sam a weak watery version of the Dean Winchester smirk. "What do you remember?" He whispered.  
  
"Us...talking about locations, then setting up how we were going to patrol and then nothing. Just...nothing like I got knocked out or something." Sam replied glancing around. "So what am I missing that I'm in a hospital with a IV in my arm?"  
  
Dean plucked at a fuzz ball on the blanket and sighed. Maybe the best way to explain this to Sam was just to be straightforward. "They called you into the river." He glanced up from beneath his lashes at Sam trying to gauge his reaction.  
  
Sam blinked and then frowned. "What?" Okay that was the weirdest explanation for this. It didn't make any sense first of all. Why would the river spirits call him? "Dean that's impossible." He forced himself to sit up ignoring his body’s refusal to do so. "Jess is gone and our relationship was never anything close to qualifying. Also---I'm not in any new relationship that could be considered anything like they’re attracted too. Lastly? I'm not even looking to be in any type of relationship. The last thing I need in my life is a relationship."  
  
"Look Sam all I know is you left the motel room and I found you in the park wading into the fucking river." He sucked in a deep breathe turning his back, his arms wrapped around his chest. His voice cracked as he continued speaking. "I had to jump in that goddamn river and pull you out...you almost drowned."  
  
"They had to have been desperate." Sam muttered as he tried to think this through, but there was so much pain inside of his skull and behind his eyes. It was like trying to pull a watermelon out of a pea sized hole. It was impossible and left you with scratches and bits of watermelon crumbling all over your hands. "They must not have been able to find a couple. So since I was messing around there before you showed up they just must have picked me. I mean it doesn't fit the pattern, but picking me doesn't fit the pattern either man."  
  
Dean's shoulders stiffened and he turned back to the bed. "Doesn't really matter why---does it? Who knows with spirits why they do what they do." He sat back down pulling the blankets back around himself. "Just dumb luck that I managed to be there to pull your sorry ass out before you drowned." It came out sharper than he meant, but he couldn't help it. How in the hell could he explain what he wasn't sure he understood?   
  
"Yeah, I guess it doesn't matter." Sam leaned back. It was so weird all of it. Spirits normally followed their regular patterns. Everything had their rituals and this was just not the usual. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Thanks though for saving me." He let his body drop back and he wished with all his might he could dig those stolen moments back. Maybe then he could piece it all together. "What am I in for anyway?" Sam asked, as he let his hand drop from his nose to look at his brother all curled up in blankets. "And dude are you wearing pink?" His mouth twitched up into a tiny smile.   
  
Snorting Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't have to thank me for dragging your ass out of the river. Didn't want to explain why you were dead if I ever found Dad." He tugged the blankets up over his head. "Frigging water was freezing. You’re suffering from hypothermia. Guess the cold has something to do with the spirits..." Dean hummed thoughtfully, "...why else would water be that cold in Mississippi in March?" He paused then cracked an eye, glaring at Sam. "And for your information it was the only color they had fuckwit." He stuck his tongue out at Sam. "You tell anyone and I'll throw your ass back in that fucking river. Let the ghosts gobble you up."  
  
Sam chuckled glancing down at himself. "I'm wearing blue." He said slowly drawing out the blue for effect as he tugged on his gown. "Blue, blue, blue."   
  
"Bitch." Dean mumbled from beneath his cocoon of blankets.  
  
"Who's wearing the pink here Dean? Not I, said the blue wearing manly man." Sam replied his voice full of amusement as he eyed his brother trying to disappear into the blankets.   
  
Another huffed snort drifted from the blankets. "Who dragged whose sissy ass out of the river?" Dean's eyes appeared through the folds of the blanket. "Besides real men can wear pink because they’re comfortable with their sexuality. Only sissy boys need to prove the size of their cock by wearing manly colors like 'blue'."  
  
A real laugh, one full of mirth and amusement, escaped Sam's lips and he coughed pulling the blankets around him. The more he laughed, the more he coughed, his chest aching with the effort. His eyes drooped a little and he just shook his head. "Fine you got me there. You win you’re so manly." He yawned then spoke in a high falsetto voice. "You’re so strong and you saved me from the river. You’re my hero Dean Winchester." His eyes started to drift closed. "Dean?" His lips curled into a soft tired smile.  
  
"Yeah?" Dean sighed softly as he rolled his eyes.   
  
"Love ya man." Sam whispered, as he let sleep take him.   
  
Another soft sigh escaped Dean and he let the blankets drop away from his head. "I know Sammy-boy. I know."   
  
He curled up letting his eyes drift shut knowing that tomorrow they'd be back on the road and this damned town would be, but a distant memory in the rearview mirror of the Impala. For now though Sam was safe and that's all that mattered.  
  
~Finis~


End file.
